


Stubborn

by alice_time



Category: Detective Anna - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Gen, Ghosts, Murder Mystery, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice_time/pseuds/alice_time
Summary: Detective Anna is a Russian TV series about a young woman (Anna) set in 1880s Zatonsk, who sees ghosts and irritates a local detective with her general butting in on his investigations.She's a brat, he's a dom, and she gets herself into a lot of dangerous situations.*If you've read my other BDSM AU works you'll know I prescribe to the more fluffy version. Platonic relationships abound.





	1. Chapter 1

The start of summer was marked by the return of Anna’s favorite uncle Piotr, after five years away. She’d grown since he’d seen her last, grown tall and lovely but she was still the girl he knew. Riding around on her bicycle in trousers without a care for what anyone else thought of her.

Her mother despaired a bit, of course, but there was no changing Anna’s mind once it was made up. She’d gotten that from her father.

The summer also marked by the arrival of one Detective Iakov Shtolman, from St. Petersburg, with scandal at his back.

Scandal, was followed by murder and Anna found herself involved in the case to help her uncle, but once one had contacted the spirit in earnest, it was not something one could shut away again and Anna found she enjoyed it. Helping. Solving the mystery. Helping souls.

And needling Detective Shtolman was a delightful pastime.

“Dearest niece, have you set your cap on the dour detective?” Piotr asked, eyeing the spirit board on her table.

“Such a silly thing to say. It’s business,” she tapped her fingers on the board. “I have to pass on what I know. It’s not my fault the spirits I see are murder victims.”

“No, of course not.”

“Does Baba think I’m infatuated with the detective? Or Mama?” Anna toyed with the curls just at her temple.

“I think they worry. He isn’t an appropriate match for you.” Piotr sipped his tea. “Your Mama wants you to go to the party tonight, mingle with people your own age. Find a suitor.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “I do not want a suitor, dear uncle. I want—I want to work.”

“Your mama won’t approve of that either.”

“Mama approves of little.” Anna sighed and stood, pacing about the room. “And my designation is to arrive soon. They had to send it to St. Petersburg. The doctor here wasn’t sure.” She frowned. “I know what it will say, Uncle. Then I’ll have no freedom at all. Can’t I have it now?”

Piotr stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I had the same worries as you, Annette. But I promise you, this is not the dark ages. A submissive is not at the beck and call of a master. They are their own creatures. Am I not?” Piotr’s marker was stamped on his cufflinks.

“You’re a man.”

“Then we go to Paris, it is less provincial. You would be as free as you like there.”

“Mama would never let me go.” Anna sighed. “I just wish I knew what to do.”

“There’s no point in worrying, Annette.” Piotr stroked her back gently. “Come, you can teach me to ride that contraption of yours.”

Anna smiled. “It would be fun to watch you try.”

***

There was no case to distract Anna when the inevitable parcel arrived, stamped with the official mark of the Office of Designation and Support. The mail arrived at breakfast. She swallowed her bite of bread and jam, but her stomach clenched against it.

Her father shared a look with her mother and then her before reaching for the letter opener. He pried off the wax seal and quickly opened the envelope. He set aside the smaller parcel inside and unfolded the document. It was thick, the paper practically sang of its official nature.

Viktor passed the document to his wife, who looked at it briefly, sighed, and passed it to Anna.

There was no mistake in the careful printing. _Submissive _

There was also no mistake in the addendum next to the designation. _Stubborn_

Anna blinked.

“What does it say?” Piotr asked.

Anna passed it across the table. “It says I am a brat.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Piotr replied. “So am I. It’s no great surprise. Runs in the family.” He put the paper aside.

“Is that why you had the test redone, Baba?” Anna looked at her father. “You said it was inconclusive.”

“Yes.” He sighed. “I wanted to be sure.” He opened the thicker, smaller parcel, revealing a smaller silver pendant stamped with _Ss. _“We’ll get you something prettier than this.”

“I don’t care if it’s pretty.” Anna sighed. “I’m going for a walk.”

No one stopped her, though her mother watched in disapproval. “She’s going to get herself into trouble.”

Viktor sighed. “Yes, Masha, I know.”

“She’ll be fine,” Piotr said. “It’s a wonderful, sunny day, what could happen?”

***

Anna took her bicycle into town, reveling in the feeling of the wind on her face. _Brat_. She supposed it was obvious. She’d never fit into the typical mold. She’d known she would test submissive, domination was never on her mind. She preferred a more subtle approach. But there was many a man, many a dominant, who would see her designation and simply decide she was not worth their time.

She was not entirely certain what she felt for Iakov was love, there was interest. Perhaps infatuation, but he would certainly be ever more dismissive of her now. Wild, people said. That was the old word, before they called them stubborn. Wild. It didn’t matter the word, it was all the same. Submissive, but not the sweet, docile sort that dominants wanted. No, she was thorny and wild and full of fire.

Not that she needed a dominant. She didn’t want suitors, she wanted—a career. A path to make her mark on the world. She’d just have to figure out how to do that despite this.

“Anna Viktorovna,” Anton waved a greeting.

“Anton,” she smiled, stopping the bike and resting her feet on the ground. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He smiled brightly. The man was kind, and in spite of silly mustache, she liked him. His cufflinks too were stamped with the letter S, which was no surprise really. “Taking a ride around town or investigating some murder we don’t know about yet?”

“Surely, Mr. Shtolman would know about a murder before me,” she protested with a smile.

“As you say.” His look was knowing.

“I should get going, it’s nearly lunch.” She wrinkled her nose. “If I see a murder, I’ll let you know.”

“I appreciate that, Anna.”

“Anything for a friend.” She smiled and got back on her bicycle, pedaling away.

***

It was possibly prophetic, she decided that evening as she woke from a nightmare. She’d seen blood. A mirror. Girls screaming.

She would have to endeavor not to think of murder in the future, in case it brought such things to her. She got up for a glass of water, trying to calm herself before attempting to get a few more hours of sleep. Whatever it was that happened, she would learn in the morning.

***

At breakfast, in fact. Her father was called as representation for one of his client’s daughters—on the suspicion of murder. Anna invited herself along, after all, the spirit had come to her. As they left the house, however, her father eyed her.

“You are not wearing your marker, Anya. You must, you know this.”

She sighed and dug the thing out of her pocket. “It is silly, Baba.”

He took the necklace and helped her put it on. “It is what it is, Anna. If you went into a shock, how would they know how best to help if they did not know your designation? Hm? They could do more harm than good. It is the same for sugar sickness, or my heart condition.”

“Yes, Baba.”

He took her arm gently and helped her into the carriage. “You’ll see, no one will be any different to you. You are still Anna, my dearest daughter.”

Anna managed a smile, but she still worried. People would treat her differently now. She knew they would.

***

The questioning of the girls over, Anna managed to pry the book out of them, which was promptly confiscated by Detective Shtolman.

“You should burn it,” she said. “I wanted to tell you something. But let’s walk away a little?” She gestured toward her father’s carriage and led him away from the house and the girls.

“There was something else. The girls had something during the ritual. A small object wrapped in a handkerchief.” She frowned. “It’s important, the key to this.”

He sighed. “And the girls told you this?”

“You could say that.”

His eyes narrowed on her neck. “I—forgive me. May I congratulate you on your designation.”

She flushed. “Thank you.”

“I’m sure you will delight and bedevil a dominant all your own before summer’s end,” he teased.

Before they could discuss anything further, her father arrived, berating Shtolman for pressuring the girls. Shtolmn strode off and Viktor turned his attention to his daughter.

“You’re being vey indiscreet, you know. Whispering with an unmarried man in the street.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Baba, it was business.”

“Oh, what business?”

“I can’t tell you that, you are on the opposing side of the investigation.” She tossed her reticule over her shoulder and smiled brightly before heading over to the carriage.

Viktor sighed. There was no changing Anna’s mind. There never was.

***

It wasn’t particularly difficult to rope her uncle into covering for her while she snuck out that evening. For one thing, he was her dear uncle, and for another, there was a solidarity among submissives.

She did not precisely mean to startle the detective, but she couldn’t help that it amused her a little.

“She didn’t do it.”

“How did you get in here?” he startled.

“The desk sergeant wasn’t at his desk.”

He sighed. “Why are you here.”

“Katia did not kill Olimpiada. Olimpiada told me so.”

She should’ve expected the argument that followed. He didn’t believe in spirits.

“Please, come to the house with me. The answers are there, we can find them.” Anna bit her lip, eyes wide. “Please.”

“It’s dark, we’ll find nothing at night. You should be at home. Do your parents know you are here?”

Her slight flush was an answer of sorts.

“I see. So you have left home in the middle of the night to meet with an unmarried man, and a dominant at that, without anyone knowing where you have gone.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” She waved a hand. “But I am trying to find a killer.”

“That is my job, and you are vey lucky I’m not doing my job in its entirety right this moment and spanking you for your recklessness.”

“I—”

Anton entered the office, arms full of paperwork.

“You’ve come at a good time,” Shtolman said. “You can escort Anna Viktorovna home.”

“Ah, yes Sir.” Anton nodded. “My pleasure.”

Anna sighed, but a new plan was already forming. If Shtolman would not indulge her, perhaps Anton would.

***

It became something of a game. Anna would push Shtolman, provide information, and skirt around the edges of acceptable behavior. She never quite cross the line. Never quite made him follow through on his promise of doing his duty.

Of course, he could not have expected she would confront a dangerous killer, nor that Anton would be complicit. He made sure that Morel was in custody before taking charge of the two miscreants. Anton by the ear, and Anna by the wrist, escorting them back to his office with a clouded expression.

He put them both in his office before sending one of the officers to fetch Anna’s father.

Anna eyed Anton, Anton stared at his desk.

“I’m going to be fired,” he said sadly.

“I’m sure he won’t be so unreasonable.” Anna swallowed. Her father was going to be another matter entirely. He was lenient, many of the townsfolk whispered that he was _too_ lenient. She knew what people said about her. The odd girl who rode a bicycle and spoke to people that weren’t there. The medium. The witch.

The submissive who didn’t seem to know her place.

She did though, know her place. It was helping the spirits who came to her for aid. Investigating the clues the police refused to. Her uncle believing her was enough for her, but she did wish Shtolman was a bit more open minded about her gift.

Of course, now wasn’t the time to needle him about that. Her stomach was clenched tight and she placed her hand on her abdomen, trying to push the feeling away. The fact was, being a brat meant she didn’t have the same sort of impulses a normal submissive had. She didn’t feel guilt to her bones like her mother did. She was like Uncle Piotr.

Anton, she could tell, was feeling guilty. It radiated off of him. She was—not sure what she was feeling. Anxious, for certain, though whether that was because she was in trouble or because she’d been attacked she wasn’t sure. She had been resolutely ignoring the books her mother kept giving her on the nature of the submissive.

They were dreadfully boring, but she did wish now she understood her emotions a bit better. There as a great deal of nonsense in those books though. Some were out of date and talked about the balancing of humors. More modern science had proved that chemicals in the blood caused the up and down swings of mood submissives experienced.

She’d even heard they were creating such chemicals to allow submissives to manage their moods all on their own. That would be a glorious thing. A pill to make the knots in her stomach loosen? She would take that in a moment.

Perhaps this was guilt after all.

Shtolman walked back into the office, closing the door firmly.

“I must admit, my subordinate taking a young woman to confront a murderer was not a picture I could envision.” He eyed them both. “Would you care to explain yourselves?”

“Ah…” Anton swallowed. “It was not my intention. I mean, I would not put Anna Viktorovna in danger.”

“And yet you did. And you,” Shtolman turned to Anna. “This is not a game. You could’ve been killed.”

Anna flushed, eyes darting to the floor.

“Anton Andreyevich, you be will reprimanded,” he pointed at Anton, “but if you do something like this again, I’ll fire you. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Anton nodded.

“Anna Viktorovna, it is your father’s right to deal with you, but I would be remiss if I did not show some evidence of my disappointment.” He took her by the wrist and pulled her over his hip, laying down a dozen hard swats to her backside, though the bustle and padding took some of the sting out of it, his displeasure was made clear.

He had her upright again before she could make a sound and looked her in the eyes, noting her flush. “If this happens again, you will be fully disciplined by me and your father, do you understand?”

Anna nodded.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Ah—yes, I understand. Sir.” She tugged on one strand of hair.

“Good. Sit in that chair until your father comes to get you.”

Anna sat, it had happened so quickly she hadn’t fully wrapped her mind around what was happening until it was over. She did not feel contrite in the slightest, but the mire of her stomach seemed clearer. Her hands shook ever so slightly and her head buzzed. She wouldn’t have minded a good hug in that moment, but wasn’t about to say so. Her heart seemed to race.

“Anna Viktorovna,” Shtolman called softly.

She blinked looking up from her hands.

He noted her pupils, dilated wide, and the faint tremor of her hands. “Your father is here for you.”

Viktor stood just next to Shtolman, expression a mix of concern and anger. “Anna.”

“When did you get here, Baba?” she asked softly.

“You’ve lost time,” Shtolman said. “How is your head?” He put two fingers against her neck. “Your heart is racing.” He looked to Viktor. “Forgive me, I did not notice her state.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not,” her father scolded. He pulled her out of the chair and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “It can be difficult to read in our stubborn ones,” he said to Shtolman. “Come now, Anna, time to go home.”

“Yes, Baba.”

Anna remembered none of the ride, except the warm safe feeling of being held by her father. It made the tremors in her hands fade, her heart stopped beating so fast. She didn’t remember ever feeling quite this way. A spirit on occasion struck her hard, but that was entirely different. It made her cold, caught her breathe, this was hot and horrible, held at bay by her father’s embrace.

Clearly, the chemicals in her blood were at war, and she was suffering for it.

“You had a shock,” her father said softly. “It’s put you into a spiral, but it’s going to be all right.”

There was tea, and blankets, and Uncle Piotr, and her mother. She couldn’t remember either of them taking a spiral so hard.

“You’ll be all right, Annette,” Piotr comforted.

“Will it always be like this?” she whispered.

“No,” Piotr shook his head. “No. You’ve just had a bad day.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. “You’ll see. It will all be better in the morning.”

Yes. And come morning, her father would no doubt finish what Iakov Platonovich had started.

If it would stop her feeling like this, she wasn’t sure she’d mind.

Of course, she’d probably change her opinion once she was actually being punished for this misadventure, but for now, she preferred to concentrate on the tea in her cup and the warm safety of her family.


	2. Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna continues to delve into the world of spirits, and dance around the inspector's cases.

It had been some time since Anna had gone to see her friend, but she still knew Nadezdha would never leave her front door ajar. Not a single candle burned to illuminate the house, and the fires had been allowed to go out. 

Anna swallowed, breath fogging in front of her face. The winter was in proper swing, snow on the ground and ice in the air. No one would be so foolish as to let the fires go out. She walked into the house, ill at ease. 

“Nadezdha?” she called. “Nadezdha?” 

There was no answer. She continued deeper into the house, into the parlor—and spotted boots on the floor. And blood. 

“Nadezdha!” she hurried over to the fallen woman, only just breathing, and put her hands over the wound on her neck. “Just. I will get help.”

A small leather-bound book fell from Nadezdha’s shawl as she shifted. Anna picked it up without thinking—and a thud sounded from somewhere in the house. Someone was moving about. 

Anna could not be sure the killer was not still in the house. She swallowed and stood, hands shaking and ran to the front door, shouting for help. 

She ran through the streets, shouting, until two police constables rounded a corner. “A woman has been attacked,” she said. “There,” she pointed out the house. “She needs help. Please.” 

The constables were quick, rushing off to the house and leaving Anna standing in the street, clutching the book. Her heart raced and her head buzzed. She had to clench both hands around the book to stop them from shaking. All that blood. The cold. 

She should go back to the house. The police would have questions. 

She should go back to the house. 

***

Shtolman was there when she arrived, a whole cadre of constables with him. She walked into the house with her head bowed, chewing absently on her thumb. She looked in shock. It took a moment to establish she’d been the one to find the body. He drew her close to a window, noting her eyes and cheeks. 

“I came inside. She was lying there.” 

“Where have you been all this time? I’ve been here for forty minutes.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been absent nearly an hour.”

“I—I don’t know. I was walking.” 

Concern overrode his instinct to question her further and he led her into the next room to sit down. 

Anna continued to speak regardless of the lack of questions. The entire story spilling out of her. He nodded absently, listening but more concerned that the young submissive was clearly having a trauma spiral and they were in a place ill-equipped to put her to rights. Her friend’s body was just in the other room. It was cold. She’d been wandering. 

He made a decision. “Anton Andreyevich, get the carriage. I need to take Anna Viktorovna home.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Anton replied. 

Iakov got her settled into the carriage, wrapping her in every blanket available before putting an arm around her shoulders and taking one of her hands in his own. She was still talking, but he recognized the behavior. He let her talk. Silence would’ve been more of a concern when it came to Anna. 

He could feel the moment when the tension in her eased and she sank into his hold. It was somewhat gratifying, having her need him again. He did wish she didn’t need saving with quite such frequency, but with a girl as headstrong as Anna, were she stubborn or not, he suspected she would be the same. 

He saw her home, safe and sound into the arms of her family, and returned to the case. No doubt, this would not be the last time he brought her home. 

***

_ Beyond the Veil, Gossip and Advice from the Spirits  _

Shtolman stared down at the paper and sighed. While the paper had not identified the author of said column, he’d no doubts about its author. He’d said those words near exactly to Anna, sarcastically. Clearly, he’d need to be more careful about phrasing his disbelief in the future. 

The column detailed the confession of the recently deceased Dmitri V. and the author offered advice in addition. The paper included a mailing address for those wishing to submit for advice. He doubted he would be the only one to identify the anonymous author. 

He sighed in resignation. There was no stopping her, was there? 

***

Anna watched her father over her teacup as he went through his morning paper. She saw his eyes narrow. He sighed and set the paper down. 

“Anna.” 

“Yes, Baba?” 

“Is it possible you’ve taken to journalism?” 

She set her teacup down, licking her lips. “Detective Shtolman gave me the idea.”

Her father rubbed his temples. “You are impossible.” 

“What sort of journalism?” Her mother asked. 

“You may not want to know, Masha,” Viktor replied. He glanced at his daughter. “You should stop this nonsense with spirits, Anna.” 

“It is not nonsense, Baba.” She stood. “I should get going. I must check with the newspaper.” 

“You have a dress fitting this afternoon,” her mother said. “Do not be late.” 

“Yes, Mama.” She kissed her mother on the cheek and then her father. “Have a good day, Baba.” 

“Behave,” he replied. 

“Yes, Baba.” 

She smiled serenely and strode off.

“Vitya,” Masha protested, “our daughter is going to be a spinster.” 

He waved a hand. “It is not so serious. She is young.” 

Masha sighed. 

***

“Anna Viktorovna, I could not help but notice the new column in the paper,” Shtolman said. 

Anna smiled. “It is quite fascinating.” 

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “I suppose this article has something to do with your visit today?” 

“I thought you might want to follow up on the information.” She set her gloves on his desk and sat down. “I understand the case in question has been unsolved for some time.” 

“It  _ is _ from before my time in Zatonsk.” He sighed. “Must you get involved in everything?” 

“Yes.” She nodded, a small smirk on her face. 

“You’re a menace, Anna Viktorovna.” 

“My father says so.” She put her chin in her hands, leaning over Iakov’s desk. “There is a party at the General’s in two days. I have a fitting today for my dress. Mother is hoping, I think, to find me a suitor.” 

“You sound enthusiastic about the prospect,” he teased. “Afraid none of the young men in Zatonsk will be up to your standards?” 

She was rather more afraid that she wouldn’t be up to theirs. “My designation will make it difficult, but moreover, I do not particularly care to be courted.” 

“No, I suspect you would prefer something less…fussy, than courting.” He frowned. “Why do you think your designation will be an issue? There are many stubborn submissives who are quite happily married.” 

“This is Zatonsk.” She waved a hand. “And I am not like many. They call me a witch, you know.” 

“I’ve heard.” He shook his head. “You should ignore such things. My belief in you gift notwithstanding, I do not believe you to be a witch.” 

“Thank you.” Anna sighed. “I should go. You should look into the case.” She tapped the paper folded on his desk before picking up her gloves. “If you have nothing pressing.” 

“Perhaps I will.” He smiled at her. 

Anna took that as a positive sign, and smiled back. “Good day then.” 

“Good day.” 

***

Anna met her mother at the dressmaker’s only a few minutes late.

“Anna, could you at least pretend you care about this?” Her mother scolded. 

Anna sighed. “Yes, Mama.” 

The dressmaker quickly got Anna into the dress for the fitting. It was definitely a showstopper, inspired by fashion plates from Paris, her mother was quite determined to show her daughter off to her best advantage. It was a dark gold silk that sat just off the shoulders, the sleeves were draped with strings of beads that glittered in the light. 

There was a white ruffle along the neckline of the softest, sheerest, cotton lawn. It floated around her like a mist. The bustle was of the newest fashion, sweeping back from her hips to put the volume over her posterior. There were more strings of beads. The only thing left to do really was the finishing of the hem. 

Her mother clapped when Anna emerged from the dressing room. “Oh, Anushka. You are a jewel.” 

Anna flushed. “Mama.” She looked at herself in the mirror and could not argue that the dress was beautiful. Still, she felt a bit like a prized mare about to be put on display.  _ Perhaps though, Iakov would be there.  _ She wanted to know what his face would look like if he saw her in the dress. Would he care? Would he smile? 

She did like his smile. She liked hearing his approval. She enjoyed their verbal sparring. 

But it was absolutely, absolutely, not love. 

She straightened her shoulders and tugged one strand of beads into a better position. Whatever the outcome of this party, she would continue on as she always had. 

No one was going to put Anna Mironova on a leash. 

***

It was a crisp evening, and Anna’s mother had insisted she wear a coat with the thickest fur collar in her wardrobe, a fur-lined hood protected her face and head, as a hat would’ve ruined all the work that had been put into her hair. 

Her jewelry for the evening were pearl drops hanging from her ears and a black ribbon around her throat, where a gold pendant hung. It was a pair of entwined S’s, with a teardrop pearl dangling from them. It was a very chic designation marker, her father had presented her with it before they left the house. 

Her father helped her and her mother out of the carriage and they headed into the house. Anna could hear the music coming from the ballroom. She wasn’t looking forward to dancing. 

Her coat was handed off to a servant and her uncle escorted her into the ballroom while her parents followed them. 

“You look beautiful, Annette,” Piotr said. “I’m going to count the number of hearts you break tonight.” 

“Uncle,” she chided. 

“You’ll see.” 

She sighed and put his silliness aside. They’d arrived fashionably late, and there were a great many people already in the ballroom. She wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, but she looked around, noting her neighbors, noting her peers. If it had been her mother’s intention to make her stand out, she had accomplished it. There wasn’t a single girl there wearing anything like her dress. Not in style or color. 

Her hair was half up and curled, with white silk flowers dotted throughout. She thought she looked like Persephone, though her mother disliked the comparison. 

“My, my, Anna Viktorovna,” Sergei, the son of a wealthy merchant, approached her. “You have become quite the beauty since I have been away.” He’d been at school in St. Petersburg. 

Anna thought he looked too much like a frog, and he wore too much cologne. His designation  _ D _ was on his cravat pin, a ruby glinting on the golden letter. 

“Sergei Dmitrovich, I thought you were going to stay in St. Petersburg. Your father said you had found work there.” 

“I returned for the holiday,” he replied. “And to my fortune it seems.” 

His smile made the hair on the back of her neck tingle. “I must introduce you to my uncle, Piotr, recently returned to us from Marseilles.” 

“Mr. Mironov,” Sergei shook Piotr’s hand. “Has your return to Zatonsk been pleasant?” 

“Every day I get to spend with my beloved niece is a blessing,” Piotr replied. “She is quite dear to me.” There was a veiled threat in that. 

Sergei didn’t seem to notice, and claimed a dance from Anna’s card before he scurried away. 

She made a face. “I do not care for him.” 

“St. Petersburg did not care for him either,” Piotr said. “I hear he was chased away by a disapproving father.” 

“Perhaps you could relay that to my father,” she suggested. 

“Perhaps I should.” He nodded. “Will you be all right if I leave you a moment?” 

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Uncle.” 

“All right, all right.” He waved a hand at her. “I’ll return shortly.” 

Anna shook her head. Her relatives really were quite overprotective. She’d only been kidnapped that once. She sank back closer to the wall and plucked a glass of wine from a tray as a servant passed. She’d no real desire for it, but it felt comforting to hold it.

“Anna Viktorovna.” 

She turned, half expecting another slimy merchant’s son. “Iakov Platonovich, I did not know you would be here.” 

“My presence was requested,” he replied. He took a breath. “I must say, you look lovely this evening.” 

She failed to stop herself from flushing. “Thank you. You also look quite lovely.” 

He smiled. “Thank you.” He took a step closer, eyes locked on her face. “Are you alone?” 

“Uncle went to talk to my father, he’ll be back shortly.” She sipped the wine. 

“Ah.” Shtolman eyed the dance card dangling from her wrist. “Is the waltz taken?” 

Anna took a breath and shook her head. 

He pulled a small pencil from his pocket and carefully wrote his name next to the dance, fingers brushing against her hand. “I’ll see you then.” 

Anna nodded, heart thudding too fast and the skin he touched tingling. She felt ridiculous, but watched him leave. The waltz couldn’t come soon enough. 

***

The powder room was unoccuppied as Anna ducked in to avoid Sergei. She was willing to pretend she’d felt ill if it meant not dancing with him again. She could still feel the sticky residue of his fingers on her hands and quickly washed both. 

He’d wanted to claim a second dance with her, and she was determined to fill her card before he could. She’d dance with the elderly Mr. Bykov, one of her father’s clients who smelled constantly of smoked fish, instead. 

At least he kept his hands where they were supposed to be. 

She brushed her hands down her dress, trying to wipe away any remnants of Sergei. Really, she would need a bath to really get rid of his scent, but that would have to wait. She plopped down on the room’s chaise and sighed. If she could, she would spend the rest of the evening in the powder room, but that would be rude. 

And Mama would surely have her by the ear and dragged back out to socialize before too long anyhow. How else was she to find a suitable match? 

Anna had to stop herself from gagging. 

Of course, that was the same moment the air grew cold around her, and the lights dimmed. 

The presence of death. 

The ghost flickered into being on the other side of the powder room, pressing a single finger against too pale lips. The woman’s long skirts fluttered around her as if there was a wind to stir them. 

“Who are you?” Anna asked. 

The woman shook her head, finger still pressed to her lips. 

“I don’t understand.” 

The moment passed, and the woman, vanished. 

Anna sighed. It seemed she could not go a single evening without being beset by spirits. 

***

“Ah, there you are Anna,” her mother said with a touch of scolding. “I thought we would need a search party.” 

“No, Mama.” Anna shook her head. “I simply felt a bit unwell and went to the powder room for water. I’m fine now.” 

“Good. The next dance is about to begin.”

“Which one?” Anna could not find a clock to tell the time. 

“The waltz,” Iakov answered, holding out his hand. “I believe this dance is mine?” 

Anna swallowed. “It is.” 

Anna’s mother sighed but said nothing as Iakov led her daughter way to join the dance. 

Anna’s attention was fixed firmly on the feeling of her hand in Iakov’s, it was firm, but gentle. His hands could be so gentle, though she only just remembered those times when he had soothed her after an upset, so buried were they in the miasma of her body chemistry. She remembered clearly their firmness, when he was dragging her away from a dead body, or into his office to be reprimanded. 

That brief smacking when she tried to take on an assassin. He’d been quite firm then. 

His other hand went to her waist, firm again, guiding, but not controlling. He led them through the waltz with the confidence of a dancer who knew their partner would follow along without prompting. With faith that she would not falter in those steps--but ready to catch her should she miss one. 

Anna felt like she was one with the music, one with Iakov, as if the whole world melted away and there was only the two of them in that ballroom. With him, there was no fight in the dance, only harmony. She found that strange, in the back of her mind, given how much fight there was between them in every other field. 

She didn’t want that waltz to end. But of course, it did, all waltzes did, and he led her back to her family. He gave her the barest of grazes, his lips across her hand, and parted with a smile. 

Anna was quite certain her heart was in her throat and she could say nothing as he parted. 

Was this, then, love? Or was it simply compatibility? 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ghost flicker into sight once more, finger still to her lips. Anna sighed and made more careful note of the woman’s features. She’s sort out the spirit’s identity tomorrow.

Once the buzzing had died down from her skin and the tingling from his kiss had faded. 

She could still feel his hand on her waist. Still feel the lightness of the waltz. 

_ I am doomed.  _ Anna thought.  _ Doomed.  _ Perhaps her family was right all along. Seeing something she refused to see? 

She, who saw so much that no one else could. Surely, she wouldn’t miss love staring her in the face? 

Would she?


End file.
